


The Prince and the Farmer's Son

by broadwaydarren



Series: CrissColfer Bingo Fics [1]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney, M/M, boy meets boy, crisscolfer bingo, fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwaydarren/pseuds/broadwaydarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy, fairytale, disney-esque CrissColfer schmoop.<br/>Written for the CrissColfer bingo challenge, for the prompt, "Castle". <br/>1.7k</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and the Farmer's Son

The invitation that comes to Chris’ house should, technically, be for his sister, but it doesn’t specifically say her name, just “The children of the Colfer family” and Chris’ mother would never let her youngest child go to the ball, so she tells Chris to go in her place. She says he can chaperone all of his female friends, make sure they get there and home safely, and, if anyone asks, explain where his sister is.  
  
The ball is for the Prince – Prince Darren – ‘s 21st birthday. He’s 21, and not married yet. He still hasn’t found some pretty blonde princess to knock up, so the birthday ball is a thinly veiled attempt at finding him a wife. Prince Charles – or Chuck, as he prefers to be called – is already married, his wife heavily pregnant with their first child, and although Prince Darren isn’t the direct heir to the throne, his parents are incredibly conscious of early deaths, caused by witches, curses, the like. They want as many heirs as possible, to keep the royal family line strong.  
  
The ball will be held at the castle in the capitol, an hour’s carriage ride away from Chris’ small outlying village. He wishes he could just stay home, watch the stars from his bedroom window, dream of a life where, upon his rapidly approaching 18th birthday, he wouldn’t be expected to find a pretty girl to marry and become a farmer, or a smith, or a merchant. He doesn’t want any of those things. Not the pretty girl, or any of the jobs. He wants to tell stories, to write story books like the few he’s managed to purchase saving up coins and travelling to the city to get.  
  
All of his books tell the story of a prince and a princess who meet, have some sort of issue, fall in love and then get married. Chris is bored of that. He wants to write about what happens after the happily ever after. Life doesn’t end upon marriage. It certainly hadn’t for Prince Chuck and Princess Lucy, and things hadn’t all been perfect. He’d heard the stories of her throwing up on the priceless rug at a neighbouring Kingdom’s castle, a result of her pregnancy. He wanted to write about that, about the ups and the downs that came after marriage, after the so-called happily ever after.  
  
Still, that’s just a fantasy. Chris is lucky he’s even literate. Most of the children in his town grow up never learning to read or write. He was just lucky his grandmother was from the big city, and could teach him to read and write. In reality, Chris hears his mother and father fervently discussing how he might be able to find a bride at the ball. In reality, his mother points out every semi-pretty girl she sees when they go into the city to buy Chris fancy clothes to wear to the ball. In reality, it takes half of their savings to pay for the nice, cream breeches, the white shirt and the navy blue coat. His mother says he’ll have to get a lot of wear out of them, possibly wear them to his wedding, too. They’d have to dye the coat black for that, but she feels confident she can do that, or at least have the local seamstress do it. Chris just sits and sighs. He still maintains that he wasn’t even invited to this dumb ball. He doesn’t want to go and make nice with the uppity young ladies of the kingdom who will all be vying for the prince’s attention. In fact, he’ll probably find a place to hide and stay there all night, only coming out to find his friends at midnight and chaperone them home.  
  
His mother insists, though, and sure enough, on the night of the ball, Chris finds himself riding up to the castle on the front of the mayor of his town’s carriage, six young ladies from his town giggling maniacally in the back as they get closer and closer. The castle itself is huge, made from stone bricks, towering over the Capitol. A flag with the royal family crest flies at the top of the tallest tower, and on the three shorter towers, flags with Prince Darren’s personal crest flies. The road in front and behind them is packed with carriages, dozens and dozens of people travelling to the ball to celebrate Prince Darren’s birthday. Chris takes a deep breath. It looks like it’s going to be a long night.  
  
Once they arrive, Chris descends the stairs as quickly as possible, following his female companions, each outfitted in a beautiful ball gown. He samples the food that is sitting on various tables around the ballroom – it’s ridiculously good – and then sneaks away, slipping down what he assumes is a secret passage and finding a little alcove with a window that he curls up in.  
For a while, he just looks out of the window, content to daydream, but after what he estimates to be about an hour or so, he hears footsteps coming down the passage. He freezes. What if it’s a guard, or a servant, and he’s going to get in trouble for being down here? He sits as still as possible, willing himself to turn invisible, but, of course, it fails, and when the person comes into sight, they spot him immediately.  
  
“Hey!” The guy, the really handsome guy says. “What are you doing here?” He asks. Somehow, he looks familiar to Chris, despite the fact that Chris is sure they’ve never spoken before.  
“I, uh, I, um.” Chris stammers, quickly turning a bright shade of red.  
  
“Balls aren’t your thing, huh? I feel that, man. They’re not mine, either.” The guy says, flopping down in the alcove next to Chris. He pulls a circlet out from underneath his gorgeous red tunic, and that’s when Chris puts the pieces of the puzzle together.  
  
“Y… You’re…” He starts.  
  
“The prince? The birthday boy? The most eligible bachelor in all the land? Yep, that’s me. Prince Darren, at your service. “ Darren says, giving a mock bow where he’s seated. “This ball is such a waste of time. You think I don’t know why my parents really threw it? They threw it to find me a wife. But guess what? I don’t want a wife.” Darren says bitterly.  
  
“Not the commitment type?” Chris guesses.  
  
“Nah. Not the Princesses type.” Darren corrects.  
  
“Oh. Me, neither.” Chris admits, and it’s the first time he’s ever said it aloud. The first time he’s ever really acknowledged, aloud, that he doesn’t like girls. He likes guys. Men. Princes, whatever you want to call them. Darren smiles at him.  
  
“God, the last few hours have been torture. So many girls throwing themselves at me, wanting to dance, wanting to show me how amazing they were at singing, dancing, acting, breathing.” Darren rolls his eyes. “Things might be looking up, now, though.” He smiles at Chris. Chris swallows.  
  
“H… How so?” He asks, voice shaking.  
  
“Well, for the first time tonight, I’ve found someone who I think I might want to marry one day.” Darren grins. “I don’t even know your name, but I know you’re a hell of a lot more interesting than any of the girls out there.”  
  
“It’s Chris.” Chris tells him, his cheeks flushed from Darren’s statement.  
  
“Well, Chris, would you like to dance?” Darren asks, standing and offering him a hand. He puts his circlet back on, the rubies shining amidst his dark curls.  
  
“There’s no music…” Chris says. He can vaguely hear the music from the ballroom in the distance, but it’s nowhere near loud enough to dance to.  
  
“That’s why we’re not going to dance here. I’m going to take you into the middle of the dance floor, and we’re going to show everyone that not every Prince has to marry a Princess.” Darren says boldly.  
  
Just like that, Chris’ night is turned upside down. He spends the rest of the ball dancing with Darren, ignoring the glares coming from every young lady in the vicinity, laughing at Darren’s comments, sampling the food Darren recommends and practically moaning at how good it all tastes.  
  
Before he knows it, though, the clock is striking twelve, and he knows he has to leave. Darren doesn’t want him to, wants him to stay, he even goes as far as to say they could get married tomorrow. Chris just laughs.  
  
“As wonderful as tonight has been, our lives aren’t a fairytale. And even if they were, in what fairytale does the Prince end up with another man?” He says sadly, his voice only a little bitter. “Besides, I’m nothing but a farmer’s son. I’m no match for the Prince. It’s time for me to head back to Moleston, where I belong. You’ll stay here, and your parents will keep trying to find you a wife. It’s just the way things go for us.” Before Darren can protest, he presses a kiss to his cheek and weaves his way through the crowd, finding his companions by the door and leading them out to their carriage. They’re gone before the clock strikes a quarter past the hour, and the dream is shattered.  
  
******  
  
The next morning, Chris wakes to loud voices downstairs. He frowns, climbing out of bed and running a hand through his hair, walking out of his room and freezing when he sees an entire royal party, Darren at the head, standing in his family’s entry way. “You do have a son named Chris, don’t you?” Darren is saying, and then he looks up, seeing Chris at the top of the stairs. “Chris! I talked to my parents. I told them I’m never going to want to marry a Princess. That I’ve found the person I want to marry, and it’s you. It’s always going to be you. I don’t care that you’re a farmer’s son. I don’t care that you’re a man, and not a woman. You don’t belong here. You belong with me, as my betrothed.” Chris just stands, dumbstruck. Surely his parents will never agree to this. Their son, marrying a man? Even if Darren is the Prince, it’s still entirely unheard of.  
  
“Well.” Chris’ mother says. “I suppose that settles it. Christopher, pack your bags. You’re moving to the castle.”  
  
Chris just grins, running down the stairs and into Darren’s arms. “I told you.” Darren murmurs. “I found the person I want to marry in that alcove last night. And I’m a Prince. I get what I want.”


End file.
